


Like a Snail Without a Shell

by ScrollingKingfisher



Series: Possession is 9/10 of the Law [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angelic Lore, Dean has a lot of Feelings and he is not good at communicating any of them, Fluff and Angst, Homophobia, House Hunters: SPN edition, Implied Sexual Content, Jormungandr eats the rich, M/M, Soul Bond, gabriel is a good bro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-09-28 17:48:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17187563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScrollingKingfisher/pseuds/ScrollingKingfisher
Summary: Dean had thought they got all the apocalypse shit over with four years ago, but this truly was the end of times.“You want to buy a house!?”It's almost four years after the end of the apocalypse, and the Winchester's world is about to be turned upside down once again. This time however, the threat is of a much more... domestic nature.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okey dokey, here it is folks! One of two planned little sequels!  
> I'm really not sure how long this thing is gonna get, and it's not finished, so updates are currently on a when-I-have-time-to-write basis. But I've started posting more as a promise that it WILL be done!
> 
> This one's dedicated to all the people who commented on The Man in the Mirror. You're literally the reason this exists, so everyone give yourselves a pat on the back! GOOD TEAMWORK, PEOPLE!!
> 
> Enjoy :)

 

“You’re kidding, right? You’re joking. This is all one big laugh, huh? Well, haha! You got me! Good one, Sammy.”

  
  
“I’m really not joking, Dean.”

 

Dean had thought they got all the apocalypse shit over with four years ago, but this truly was the end of times.

 

“You want to buy a  _ house!? _ ”

 

"Yeah." Sam shrugged at him over the racks of gas station chips and pre-made sandwiches with that hopeful-puppy expression that had got him so many places as a child. But Dean wasn’t giving in this time, nu-uh. He’d had his shots. He was immune.

 

_ “Why?” _

 

“I just thought, it might be nice for us to, you know, settle down a bit.” Sam’s hopeful look was slowly fading into disappointment and a bit of hurt at Dean’s tone, those broad shoulders hunching a little more, and a small part of Dean was starting to feel guilty, but most of him was too busy being taken up with incredulity.

 

“Settle down? What, you mean retire? Stagnate?”

 

“No! Does Bobby look like he’s stagnating? Just…” Sam sighed, turning away, his lips pursed, broad shoulders slightly hunched. “Just an idea. Never mind.” 

 

He turned away, and Dean watched him wander off with a distinct sense of unease. He bit his lip as Sam pretended to be engrossed in a display of sweets, dithering before making his way to the till.

 

Whatever Sam might say, it wasn’t ‘just an idea’. It stuck in Dean’s mind all the way through paying for his snacks, nagged at him through the slightly tense journey to their next motel, ate at him in a way that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. 

 

He turned to look at Sam’s sleeping face pressed against the side door as he pulled up. His brother’s mouth was slightly open, breath creating a gently fluctuating patch of condensation on the cold window. Everything had seemed to be going so _well_. Heaven was slowly un-fucking itself with Gabriel's help, the hunters were back to dealing with restless spirits and werewolves, Bobby was as ornery as ever, and he and Sam were back on the road together with their old comradery restored. Even Hell was quiet these days; that hadn't had a demon case in six months now that Crowley had secured his power. He and Cas had a good thing going. Sam and Gabe were as nauseatingly close as ever. They were fine. They were happy. 

 

But Sam’s earlier words and eager look still came echoing back to haunt him;  _ “settle down” _ . A frisson of anxiety went up his spine.

 

So Dean did what he always did now when he wasn’t feeling sure; he sighed, booked them into a room, packed Sam off to bed, got back into the impala, and called Cas.

 

...

 

There wasn’t a sound these days that could put Dean at ease faster than the  _ whup-whuf _ of angel wings. By the time he turned to the passenger seat Cas was already there, his hair windswept, looking like he had just rolled out of bed and was (in Dean's opinion) adorably grumpy about it. Dean breathed out, letting tension slip out of his shoulders for what seemed like the first time in hours. “Cas.”   


  
Cas took in his stressed expression and immediately his grumpiness sharpened into alarm, eyes flicking back and forth, scanning the area for danger. “Dean, what’s wrong? Are you hurt? Is it Sam? Do we need Gabriel?”   


  
Dean gave a tired chuckle, shaking his head. “It’s Sam, but it’s not an emergency, Cas. Cool your jets.”

 

Cas relaxed. “I have wings, not jets,” he said, returning his blade to the inside of his coat. 

 

Dean smirked. He’d worked out Cas’ bone dry sense of humour years ago now, and it was still satisfying to watch him confuse and frustrate the other hunters, but he was feeling too unsettled tonight to joke around like they sometimes did. Cas seemed to sense it, his eyebrows drawing together and eyes softening into a frown of genuine concern. “Dean, is everything alright?”

 

Dean sighed, his smile slipping. He raised a hand to his forehead to try and rub away the budding headache. “It’s something Sam said earlier…”

 

He explained the whole thing. He could feel himself getting more and more wound up as he related the story, until by the end he could hear his heart thumping unevenly in his ears. “We don’t need a house with a lawn and a goddamn picket fence!” He exclaimed, gesturing, on a roll now. “What’s wrong with the impala, huh? We’ve always been just fine living out of motel rooms! That’s what we’ve done our entire lives! And now suddenly he’s too good for all that!” Even if it would have been nice to have a mattress where the springs weren’t trying to assassinate you like Julius Caesar every night. And maybe a decent kitchen. And maybe somewhere to hide his ever-growing collection of cowboy gear...

 

But Cas wasn’t nodding along and agreeing with him. In fact, his eyebrows had grown closer together in a considering frown. “Actually, Dean... I can see where Sam is coming from.” 

 

Dean shot him an incredulous glare. Surely he should be taking Dean’s side on this? He opened his mouth to loudly object, but Cas wasn’t done. “Maybe Sam feels the need to put down more permanent roots, and to have some space to himself.” Cas met his eyes, as unnervingly insightful as ever. “And unless I’m mistaken, I believe that you do too. There is no sense in depriving yourself of any scrap of stability.”

 

Dean grunted, unwilling to admit it but also desperately not wanting to fight with Cas as well. “Whatever. This’ll all fall through, you watch. I don’t need a house to be happy, and neither does Sam.”

 

He quickly got out of the car, letting the door slam behind him with a solid  _ clunk _ and refusing to look back as he walked up to the motel door. If he stayed in there, Cas was going to psychoanalyse him until Dean gave in and bought a condo in the suburbs, he just knew it. 

 

With a humph, he slid the key into the lock. What did Cas know? He and Sam managed just fine! They were fine!

 

Quiet noise filtered through the wood, he realised. Probably Gabe coming down for a visit. Good, that might put a smile on Sammy’s face after the wobbly lower lip he’d had to put up with all day. Dean vaguely wondered what they were doing as he turned the key. They were probably watching a movie or some other disgusting coupl-y shit. Watching them was enough to give Dean cavities they were so romantic, which, Dean wouldn’t lie, wasn’t what he’d ever expected from Gabriel, but here they were. Their lives were weird. At least they weren’t sharing a body any more. And he seemed to be treating Sam right- initially Dean had worried when he came back that their relationship might burn out when they weren’t in one meatsuit any longer, but they’d gone and proven him wrong. The last four years only seemed to have made their relationship stronger.

 

The lock gave way with a  _ click _ . Dean swung the door open and-

 

He only caught the most fleeting glance. A flash of bared skin, a leg flung over someone’s hips, the wink of a buttock before-

 

“DEAN!! GET THE HELL OUT!!”

 

…

 

Dean shut the impala door with a clunk of miserable resignation and sighed. He didn’t even bother looking over at Cas. No doubt his expression was unbearably smug. Instead he scrubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes to see if he could remove the images seared there. Nope. Those were burned in.

 

“Fine.” He muttered bitterly, “So we need a house. With locking doors. Got any suggestions?”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Which Sam and Gabe get Cock-Blocked and Dean Finally Comes Face to Face with his Own Emotions

 

 

“Well, that was awkward,” Gabriel announced into the ringing silence left by the slamming door. “Is he ever gonna learn how to knock?”

 

“Tell me about it,” Sam slumped back into the covers with a huff, turning onto his side and pulling a sheet over them both with a moody tug. He didn’t need to say anything. There was nothing quite like Dean bursting in on them to ruin the mood, Gabriel thought sourly. It didn’t bother him so much; he’d have taken advantage of Dean’s prudishness to horrify him with an eyeful long before now if it wasn’t for Sam’s obvious discomfort with the entire situation. Even now, he could feel Sam’s mind and soul prickling with upset through their bond.

 

Sam was obviously ruminating on something. Gabriel snuggled closer in to his side and waited patiently. They were silent for a few minutes, just their breathing and the minute crackles of synapses in Sam’s brain, before he spoke up.

 

“I mean… it’s not a stupid idea, is it?” Sam asked, a hint of desperation showing in his voice. “Getting a house. Just to have somewhere of our own. Where we can go to rest when we’re not hunting. Bobby’s family, we’ve always enjoyed visiting, and he’s made it clear that we’re always welcome, but it’s different. His house has never been  _our home_ . We only ever visit if we’re exhausted or injured, or, I don’t know, being hunted, or infected with demon blood or whatever. And now it’s always so busy, what with him setting up the hunter stop-off point. I just want somewhere we can actually  _relax,_  you know? I don’t know what Dean doesn’t understand about that.” He slumped back with a sigh.

 

Gabriel made a considering noise, throwing an arm across Sam’s chest and rubbing a thumb comfortingly against his shoulder. He felt Sam relax minutely under his attention. “Well, I’m not sure Deano’s thinking of it like that. He’s got his own set of issues, but that’s not your problem. Your suggestion’s a good idea. You both need somewhere to call base camp, and I’m getting tired of zapping motel beds into something I’m willing to lie on.” He thought about it. “I’ll talk to Cas, see if he can drill some sense into that thick skull of his. He’ll come around, Sam.”

 

Gabriel felt Sam smile into his hair, finally relaxing enough to embrace him back. “Thank you. I hope he will. And I appreciate you coming down here to spend time with me despite the interruptions. I know you’re still busy with heaven.”  
  
Gabriel huffed out a frustrated breath, propping himself up to look him in the eye. How many times did they have to go over this before Sam would realise? “Sam, I’ve told you, it’s the opposite of a problem. Trust me kiddo, you’re the one I’m thinking about all day while I’m ripping fake memories out of my baby brothers and sisters. You’re the only one keeping me sane at this point.” He knew it left Sam worried and fretting whenever he showed up exhausted and upset from fixing them. Sam thought he was overdoing it, but he also understood that Gabriel couldn’t leave his family like that. Raph had been a huge help. They had a system now. Gabriel would spot and remove the broken memories, and his big brother would patch them up afterwards. It wasn’t a pleasant process. Like rebreaking bones that had healed wrong. He shuddered involuntarily.

 

Sam nuzzled the top of his head in sympathy, hugging him tighter. “You’re almost done, right?”

 

Gabriel sighed. “Yeah, nearly there. Should be done in a week now, there’s only a hundred left.”

 

“That’ll be a relief.”

 

Gabriel made a noise of agreement into Sam’s shoulder.

 

“And we’re driving back to Bobby’s tomorrow, so at least we’ll be there to see Gaia before she leaves for her Mediterranean trip.” Gabriel’s heart sank. Back to Bobby’s again. Which meant that nothing more risque than snuggling was going to happen for at least the next week- the grumpy old coot had banned sex in his house after the Whipped Cream Fiasco. He suppressed a sigh.

 

They fell silent for a minute. Gabriel considered his options.

 

“Hey Sam.”

  
  
“Yeah?”

  
  
Gabriel glanced at his sharp profile, the hint of stubble just starting on his jaw. “What do you think are the chances that Dean’s rented himself another room?”

 

Sam rolled an eye down to look at him, considering. “...it’s a possibility.”

 

Gabriel felt his own smile turn sly. “I don’t know about you, but there’s still a fire belowdecks, if you get my meaning. You still up for some tube-snake boogie?”

 

Sam chuckled. “That’s terrible.”

 

He propped himself up on one elbow. “And I haven’t even unleashed my best ones yet! What about releasing the kraken? Taking the one-eyed snake to the optometrist? Riding the bologna pony?”  


Sam’s sides were shaking, and just the sound of his desperately repressed laughter was enough to make his own grin widen. “Is that your version of trying to seduce me?” Sam asked, teasing.

 

“Maybe. Is it working?” Gabriel shifted, trying not to sound impatient. “So. Are you up for it? Shall we dance?” He leaned up closer to whisper directly into Sam’s ear. “Or are you too chicken in case he walks through the door again?”

 

He had just enough time to see the gleam of excitement and challenge light up in Sam’s eye before he was being flipped onto his back, Sam looming over him, teeth bared in a grin. Gabriel went with it, letting himself be manhandled, snickering before Sam bent down to shut him up.

 

Dean had better not have rented the room next door, or he was gonna have one interrupted night’s sleep.

 

.o0o.

 

“So you caught them in the act, boy. I don’t get what you’re all het up over.”

 

They’d arrived at Bobby’s that morning, and for the first time ever, Dean had been unable to park the impala by the front door. This hunter-stop-off idea had been all very well, but having to put his baby in the scrap yard? Unacceptable. There were four people crammed into Bobby’s study as they spoke, another three in the old dining room, and a bison-headed-deity packing up what was usually Dean’s spare room. It was enough to make anyone cranky. Not to mention Sam running off as soon as the car had stopped.

 

Bobby stood from the kitchen table with a wince and a creak of protesting joints, ambling over to the coffee maker for his fourth cup of the morning. The old man was going to die of a caffeine-induced heart attack before the monsters could get him, Dean knew it. He shoved his own chair out so he could turn and continue their conversation.  
  
“The fourth time, Bobby! The fourth time this month!” Dean emphasised as Bobby brought his coffee back to the table, setting it down carefully next to a hex bag. “Isn’t there meant to be an end to the honeymoon period? I’ve seen more of Gabe than I ever wanted to! And Sam! It’s just wrong, man. And now I think he’s avoiding me,” he added glumly.

 

Bobby shrugged, still infuriatingly calm about the whole thing, and turned a page of his book on selkie lore. “Maybe your brother’s got a point. You’d be less likely to catch them bumpin’ uglies if they had a locking door.”

 

Dean shuddered. “Bobby, please never use that phrase again. Like, ever.”

 

“Plus,” Bobby kept going as if he’s never spoken, “I could do with a change of scene as well. I love the old place,” he glanced around wistfully, “but it ain’t got the best memories attached to it anymore. Not after Karen. And I wanna help you boys and the rest of the hunters to become an actual community, ‘cos Lord knows we’ve been too unsociable before now, but this ain’t the best meeting place. Too small for one thing, and Jody ain’t too keen on the number of bodies I got buried in my yard.”

 

“But… why… why are you all so keen to move, huh?” Dean spread his hands “You say you wanna keep hunting, but it’s a slippery fucking slope Bobby! One day you move house, the next day you’ve got a nine-to-five job and a people carrier! What’s wrong with what we’ve got now? I’m not moving into suburbia until someone drags me there.”

 

“Boy, what is your problem?” Bobby squinted at him with irritable impatience. “You think I’m gonna stop hunting now, after all the goddamn effort I’ve put in over the last few years?” He turned back to his lore book. “And I got bigger fish to fry than listening to your bellyachin’. There’s been four super-yachts and an oil tanker gone missing in the last two months. I got reason to suspect we got some kinda wyrm or sea monster on our hands, and Todd needs all the help he can get before the thing targets something bigger and we get a Titanic situation.” There was a loud thump and a short crash from the living room. “Clumsy bastards,” Bobby muttered under his breath, then yelled, “If that was the Sumerian cursed vases you’d better be gone by the time I get in there!”

 

He heaved himself up and stumped off, muttering to himself all the while, leaving Dean sitting by himself at the table, frowning over his slowly cooling coffee. He listened to Bobby chewing out the hunters, picking moodily at a splinter on the table. Everyone seemed to think moving out was a good idea. Even he could agree that the list of pros was longer than the cons.

 

So why did it feel like the world was ending all over again?

 

...

 

Upstairs, Sam peered into what, up until about a year ago, had been Dean’s room. The door was ajar, and through it he could see a silhouette, the wild shagginess of the current occupant’s hair not obscured by the worn band shirt she was wearing. He smiled. “Hey Gaia.”

 

The goddess turned her attention from the clothes laid out on the bed, her bison’s ears flicking towards him. Her lips drew back in a smile and she stepped towards him, pulling him into a warm hug before releasing him. She huffed, soft breath washing over him, the musky scent that followed her surrounding them. “Sam! How have you been? How was the possessed goblet?”

 

“Good, good. We even managed to get there before anyone else drank out of it. The ghost didn't give us any more problems than usual, I only got thrown into the wall once before Dean managed to burn it." He stepped fully into the room. "I’m glad we could make it back before you go.”

 

“Yes, I am as well. It would have been a pity to go without you to see me off.” Gaia turned to glance again at the open suitcase. “I’m nearly ready. I’ve been busy since you left, studying glamours. Gabriel suggested it to me. Do you want to see?”

 

Sam looked at her with interest. “Sure.”

 

As he watched, her great shaggy head warped, shimmered like a mirage, and in between one blink and the next there was a human woman staring back at him. The skin of her face was the same bronzed tan as the rest of her body, her thick hair forming tight black ringlets as it curled past her high cheekbones and strong jaw. The only part that gave her away were the eyes, still almost a solid, glossy brown-black that reminded Sam a little too much of demons. He shifted uncomfortably.

 

“You’ve got… uh…”

 

Gaia seemed to realise what she’d forgotten, because she snorted in annoyance as she tossed her head back, her sclera fading to white while her irises stayed that rich, dark brown. “Better?”

  
  
Sam smiled. “Much better.”

 

She smiled back, then grimaced. “I will wear it as little as possible. How do humans hear without being able to turn their ears? And such tiny useless teeth.” She sighed, one side of her mouth quirking into a grimace. “Once, I could walk among you as I am. But I am aware that times have changed. Even those of your species who have knowledge of my kind are wary, and I do not blame them.” Sam bristled a little, because if the hunters had been giving her grief then he wanted to know who so he could give them a piece of his mind, but she held up a hand to still him. “Peace. I know what some gods do to mortals. And in this world of secrecy, all too often it is only the ones who wish to harm humans who deliberately seek them out. Your hunters are right to be wary.”

 

She pulled out a drawer, emptying out the knick-knacks she’d accumulated over the past few years; snow-globes and rubber band balls tumbled out beside charmed necklaces and pieces of glazed pottery. They joined a small pile of books already in the suitcase. Sam watched the growing piles with something like alarm- she was emptying out the whole room.

 

“You’re… you’re not leaving permanently, are you?” Sam hated feeling like a child, but he couldn’t help the note of small dejection in his voice. He’d grown used to seeing the goddess over the last few years- he knew that if his friend moved abroad that they might lose contact, and he wasn’t prepared for that. “I thought it was just a trip, but this looks like…”

 

Gaia smiled, her eyes going soft as her head wavered its way back into a bison’s again. “No, Sam. I’m not going permanently. I will go and collect whatever of my belongings remain and then I will return here. I simply don’t know what I will encounter while I’m gone or exactly how long it will take. I thought it better to be prepared.”

 

“Oh,” Sam couldn’t keep the relief out of his voice. Gaia scooped the clothes haphazardly into her case, closing it and doing up the zip. She paused, one hand resting on her entire worldly possessions.

 

“I want you to understand, Sam. Why I am going, and why I am coming back. That cave was my home for… a very long time. The people who lived there worshipped me and sustained me, and in return I protected them. But that time is past now. My followers and friends are long gone, passed out of memory, even their bones ground down to dust. There is nothing left to sustain me there. So I am going to collect what I can so that I can truly leave and forge a new home for myself here.” She turned, fixing a dark eye on him, “as we all must when the time comes. Knowing you must leave a home does not make it any easier. Don’t be too hard on your brother, Sam. He’s struggling as well, just in a different way.”

 

Sam sighed. “Yeah. I know.”

 

Gaia picked up her suitcase, starting for the door. She paused in the doorway, throwing a parting smile back to him. “I hope you find a home for yourself and your new family too, Sam.”

 

He tried to smile back at her. “Thank you.”

 

She turned the corner, and she was gone.

 

...

 

Dean sat on the porch, his eyes fixed between the lengthening shadows in the dusty dirt and where the last of the sun was just starting to make the bottoms of the clouds blush pink. It was a mellow evening, the fireflies just starting to dance over the wrecks of the cars and the chatter and occasional roar of laughter from the house behind him, but he wasn’t in the mood for socialising this evening. He couldn’t even face elbowing his way through the throng for long enough to grab a beer.  

 

Bobby’s words from earlier kept on coming back to him.  _‘Boy, what is your problem?’_  The worst part of it was, the old man had a point.

 

What  _was_ Dean’s problem? Why was this such an issue? Nobody else was being unreasonable and irrational about trying to find somewhere permanent. Nobody else was sitting alone and sulking about it, either. No, they were all inside, laughing together while they  _househunted,_ like this was some kinda crappy low-budget TV show of their lives and a host with over-whitened teeth was about to show up and start escorting them properties. All while he was throwing a pity party for one. Awesome.

 

“Dean. There you are.”

 

Dean felt his shoulders tense- he’d been so distracted that he hadn’t heard Cas open the door. He didn’t look up as he approached. There were the sounds of footsteps against the wooden deck, then the creak of boards and the gentle shush of fabric as Cas moved to sit next to him. A beer was offered to him out of the corner of his eye. He reluctantly picked it up.

 

“I thought I might find you out here. Bobby’s living room was getting overcrowded.” Cas waited a second, and then, when he didn’t reply, continued. “May I make a guess as to why you’re so upset about Sam’s suggestion?”

 

“No, but I feel like you’re gonna do it anyway,” Dean grunted, taking a sip.

 

Cas sighed, leaning forwards on his elbows before he continued. “You have always equated your car with hunting and your family. It is your transportation, your childhood memories, the last remaining connection to your father, and in every way that matters, your home. And therefore you believe that, by Sam’s desire to settle down, that he wishes to give all of that up. That he would no longer wish to live with you, to hunt with you, to spend time with you. You are afraid of being abandoned.”

 

Dean chewed his lip for a second, his emotions churning behind his sternum, then twisted to look at him. “See, how do you do that, man? How do you just… lay it all out like that?”

 

The last rays of the sun were catching in Cas’ hair, gilding the bridge of his nose, reflecting in those sharp eyes as he looked at Dean with that familiar, beloved intensity. The corner of his mouth turned up in a barely-perceptible smile. “I have been told that eloquence is one one of my better qualities. However, Gabriel told me yesterday that my words were ‘as blunt and painful as slicing my ears off with a butter knife’, so I’m no longer sure if that’s a good thing. Would you like me to lie to you instead?”

 

“Naw, Cas, you keep on being you.” Dean took another sip of beer, staring down at the bottle. Cas’ words rang true in a way that made them seem so obvious that it was amazing how he hadn’t seen before. And worried wasn’t even the word, he realised. He was  _terrified_ of that abandonment, so much so that there was anxiety curdling his stomach just at the thought of it.

 

“Your brother would not abandon you.”

 

It was like Cas could read his mind.

 

“He says he wouldn’t, Cas, but it’s a slippery slope. He’s done it before. He took off to Stanford, remember? Left me and Dad behind completely. Not a word. Not so much as a text message for four fucking years.”

 

“From what I have heard from Sam about that occasion, it sounds as though he didn’t feel he had any choice in the matter. He believed that you would reject his decision to pursue an education just as your father had. Besides,” Cas pulled himself more upright, “Sam left for Stanford angry and alone, which will not be the case this time unless you make it so. I also believe that Sam has done a poor job of explaining himself, and you have some misconceptions about what Sam is suggesting.”

 

Cas stole the beer from his hands, ignoring Dean’s glare before handing it back. “Sam has no desire to retire from hunting- I believe he is planning to expand on Bobby’s hunters’ network, hence the need for extra space. I heard him talking quite enthusiastically to Gabriel yesterday about the possibilities of creating a digital database of hunting information. As well as that, he is not suggesting that he creates a more permanent home just for  _himself_ ; he’s suggesting you  _both_ do. He wants you with him.” Cas turned to look at him, slightly impatient now, those blue eyes searing through him like a laser beam. “You are afraid of Sam settling down because you are afraid to lose your family and your home. But the Impala is only the physical shell of what it represents. And you will not lose your family unless you yourself make it so. So go and talk to him.”

 

Dean was quiet for a second, absorbing.

 

Maybe that was it. He had heard the words ‘codependent’ thrown at them before. And true enough, they had been Sam-and-Dean for almost all of their lives- that was their existence, their identity, just the two of them in that car, on the road and hunting monsters. But in the last few years, things had changed. Sam-and-Dean-and-Cas-and-Gabe didn’t fit in one old muscle car as well as just Sam-and-Dean had done, and that was without counting Bobby and Gaia and Fenrir and the countless other friends they’d seemed to pick up almost accidentally.

 

Maybe he’d been holding himself back; giving himself excuses and dragging Sam away because deep down in his heart he was still clinging onto the life he’d always led, that cold solitary hunting life that Dad had always told him was all there really was. But that hadn’t stopped him from wanting friends, and family. And all that love and devotion, all that attachment that really should have been spread out over ten, even twenty people, had ended up all being focused on one instead. He had given Sam almost everything, and taking a risk that might have meant losing that connection? That was unthinkable

 

But if he wanted to gain anything for himself, he would  _have_ to take a risk. He wasn’t the person he had been at twenty. Sam wasn’t either. Their previous lives were like a shell that they’d both outgrown, dragging them down.

 

Maybe. Maybe it was time to let go.

 

A hand landed on his shoulder. “You are not to blame for the way you were raised,” Cas said, his rough voice almost soft. “You were allowed very little to hold onto, so you held on to your brother. Your reaction to thinking you might lose him is understandable, but it is not just the two of you anymore. Sam is trying to give you other things to hold onto, if you will let him.”

 

Dean dragged in a long, shuddery breath. “No, you’re right. We’re not just the two of us any more. He’s trying to make us both better, I’ve been an asshole about it. Sam’s a human being, I can’t just cling to him forever. But it’s...” he faltered, eyes dropping, “it’s gonna take a while, I think. I dunno if I can just turn this thing off. I’ll try…”

 

“I know you will.”

 

Dean sucked in a deep breath, clutching his beer tightly. The sun kissed the horizon. From behind them, there was a shout and the sound of laughter. Dean almost jumped when an arm snaked around his waist, then relaxed as he was drawn into a slightly awkward sideways hug.

 

“You’re a good man, Dean. Don’t forget that.” Cas' breath was warm against the back of his neck, and warm where their chests pressed together.

 

Dean smiled, pressed a kiss into the hair behind his ear. “And where would I be without you to remind me, huh?”

 

“Still wallowing in self-pity, probably.”

 

Dean snorted, drawing back, and pulled them both to their feet. “Too damn right. You know what? Let’s get in there before Sammy gets peer pressured into buying a castle.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Raphael has an existential crisis, some hunters are arseholes (and some are not), and Jormungandr eats the rich.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, apologies for the long wait!! But I had a PhD interview (AAAAAAAA) which I've gone and done, so all that's left to do in the meantime is wait to hear what they say and write more fanfic! Enjoy!
> 
> (also, please note the new tags- the homophobia isn't from any main characters, but it's there)

 

 

“Finished.” 

 

With a sigh, Gabriel collapsed backwards, sitting down with a solid  _ thump _ . What a day.

 

Raphael set the last cupid back on its many wobbly legs with the utmost gentleness. The poor thing whispered its thanks before tottering off, quickly getting scooped up by several of its concerned brethren and led away. Gabriel watched them go.

 

Healing his siblings really had been a thankless task- the number they had healed seemed endless. He had expected some sort of satisfaction once they were done, but all there was was a grim sort of relief. And exhaustion. Couldn’t forget the exhaustion. He was tired from primary head to tail feathers, and what he wanted more than anything was to go find Sam, curl up with him, and sleep like a human until everything went away.

 

Poor Raph wasn’t looking much better. His sibling slouched down with a sigh, running one delicately clawed hand over their tertiary face.  “How many was that?”

 

Working with Raph now that he was back had been…strange. That love was still there, of course. Gabriel had loved Lucifer even while he was trying to kill him, after all. But that closeness that they’d once shared was gone. He knew why; a mental makeover and a forty-thousand-year vacation would make anyone drift apart. But nevertheless, Gabriel mourned it’s absence. 

 

“Twenty-five thousand, three hundred and six angels. Too Dad-damned many, that’s what.” Gabriel picked half-heartedly at some muck stuck in his feathers. He should ask Sam to help him clean them again. When was the last time they’d done that together? He realised suddenly that it had been nearly a year. But he’d been just so focused on getting this whole mess  _ over with _ in the last few months…

 

Evidently, he needed a holiday from heaven. Desperately. 

 

“Gabriel.”

 

He looked up from rubbing his eyes to find Raphael watching him. There was a hint of unidentifiable tension in their wings. Gabriel had the feeling that it wasn’t the first time that they’d called his name.

 

“Huh?”

 

“I said, what are your plans now?”

 

Gabriel thought for a moment. “Well, go back to earth. Sleep a lot. Spend more than fifteen minutes with Sammy without Dean-Cockblock-Winchester walking in on us, for once. Hang around while those crazy kids hunt ghouls or whatever. Maybe plant some whipped cream in Bobby’s fridge just to get him good n’ riled up.” He thought about it. “Then I was going to come back up here. Check on how the seraphs are recovering before I help my rag-tag gang of hunters find a decent pad.”

 

“Oh.” Raph sounded almost surprised. “So you do not plan to… leave again?”

 

And, ah- there was the source of that tension. Thick and taut in the lines of their brows, the angle of their wings.

 

“What? No!” Gabe shook his head. “No, I’m not gonna just up and leave. Not after all the hard work I just put in. Who do you take me for, Dad?” He chuckled, but even he could taste the bitterness in it. He sighed, dropping the pretence of humour for sincerity. “Look. Sticking a plaster on the wound then fucking off was always the old man’s MO, not mine. Not any more. I’m sticking around, for as long as you’ll have me.”

 

Raph relaxed a little, their wings slumping towards the floor, but they stayed quiet. Gabriel could see their grace still rippling with conflict.

 

“So it is true then. Father… truly does not care.”

 

They were both silent for a moment.  Gabriel could feel the awkwardness keenly. They had managed to avoid this conversation since he’d returned- there had always been other things to do, more urgent things. For a second, he wished they’d managed to avoid it for longer. But if that happened it would always be there, wouldn’t it? Another unresolved space between them. Maybe it was just as well it had come up.

 

He wanted to say  _ something-  _ something that could ease the pain his brother was obviously in, but there was nothing he could think of that didn’t sound like empty platitudes. Not when they both knew the truth: that their Father had only cared for them as long as they had been useful or entertaining.

 

Raphael twisted the end of one tail between their fingers tight enough that it had to hurt. “And everything with Naomi… You, Gabriel? At least you  _ did _ something. Even when you couldn’t remember, you knew that something was wrong. I’m paranoid now. What if there’s more? What if something else is wrong and I’m not even aware of it?  How can I ever fix this? How can I lead them when I have so little faith left in myself? I...” they trailed off, putting their heads in their hands. “I don’t know what to do.” Their wings curled around them in misery.

 

Gabriel was frozen. Of all of them, Raph had always been the solid one, the dependable one. The one who’d held heaven together during Father’s absence and Michael’s brooding, the one who had just helped him heal every angel left with that same calm reassurance that they always had. But here they were, that calm exterior shattering into pieces as he watched, and Gabriel had no idea what to do.

 

“Hey. Hey, it’s… it’s gonna be okay,” He murmured, reaching forward awkwardly to pat his brother on the arm. He tried desperately to think of what Sam would say. “Because you’re not gonna be alone, alright? Hell, I don’t have a clue what we’re doing either, nobody does. And we don’t have to make heaven perfect. We just have to make it better.”

 

One eye peered out from behind Raph’s wings.

 

“Look,” He kept going, “To be honest? I don’t give a shit about Dad any more. And I don’t think you should either. All that’s in that direction is heartache and pain.”

 

Poor Raph looked more lost than Gabriel had ever seen them, their hands dropping limply down to their sides as they stared down at their younger brother with sad eyes. “And how do you suggest we do that? Just try and forget?”

 

“‘Course not. I’m not saying we forget any past as though it never existed, and of course we’re still gonna care, deep down. He was our Dad! We can’t just flick that on and off. The love and the hurt’s always gonna be there. What I’m saying is that we should try and grow past it.” Gabriel smiled crookedly. “Personally? I think it’s time heaven took a leaf out of humanity’s book. We might only just be coming to terms with the fact that dear old Dad would rather play with his creation legos than look after his kids, but Chuck made humans in his image. They’ve been deadbeat dads since the word go, but they’ve been dealing with it, too.”

 

Gabriel dropped the feathers he’d been absent-mindedly grooming and looked out across heaven. “I think they’ve had some good ideas with how to cope. How to move on. I think heaven needs that… that we  _ all  _ need to stop waiting around, hoping for Him to come back and take charge when He’s made it very clear that that’s the last thing he wants to do. We need to start making our own decisions. Start building something for ourselves instead of wishing He’d do it for us. Humans are good at that. Taking the initiative.”

 

Raphael nodded slowly. “You are saying that… we need to remake heaven as our home again.”

 

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

 

Raph nodded again. They were slowly starting to calm down, Gabriel noted with relief. “I shall have to look into these human methods you mentioned. It would at least be a start, and we can’t start repairing the rest of heaven if we are in pieces.”

 

Gabriel reached up, having to stand on the tips of his toes to pat Raph on the shoulder. “You know what we really need, brother? Therapy. So much therapy. I wonder if Bobby knows anyone...” He trailed off, his thoughts going back to earth, to the people waiting down there. To Sam...

 

“Go.”

 

Gabriel looked up at his brother in surprise. “Are you sure? I can stay with you here if you need-”   
  
“You love Earth so much, brother. We might love you, and we will always be your family, and I hope you will visit often- but I’ve seen the love you hold for your other little family down there, even if I do not fully understand it. Go on, your Bonded is waiting. I would never try and keep you from him. Go and rest before the next cataclysm starts.”

 

Gabriel shuffled awkwardly. “Technically, bro, we’re not Bonded…”

 

Raph rolled all their eyes. “As good as. What the two of you did had consequences, Gabriel, and they’re written all over your grace. Regardless of what you both decide, you are both marked for one another.” They gave Gabriel a gentle shove. “Go on. I can hold the fort up here for a few days.”

 

Gabriel darted forwards, pulling Raph into a startled hug, wings and all. “See ya in a week,” he promised, then softer, “thank you.”

 

Raphael embraced him tighter for a second, squeezing, then released him. “Go.”

 

Gabriel grinned up at them, then turned, crouched, and leapt into the sky in one fluid movement. His wings beat in synchrony as he gained height. He circled once overhead, letting out a shrill whistle towards the shrinking figure below him. Raph whistled back, the sound carrying up to him on heaven’s currents, and Gabriel smiled as he swung away towards the edge of the Garden.

 

Heaven could wait now, he thought to himself as he pulled his wings back and dove over the edge. He had a human to get back to.

 

…

 

Dean managed to edge into the back of Bobby’s living room mostly unnoticed. It wasn’t hard- the number of people packed into the little room, shoulder-to-shoulder, made it so that he could barely see past the first few heads.

 

The only space in the room was around Sammy, his brother’s broad shoulders hunched over his laptop, straightening up from his search occasionally to announce his findings to the gathered crowd. He was laughing, shaking his head, his hair falling around his face, looking in his element surrounded by all these people, these new friends. And for a second, Dean’s heart ached. How could he ever believe he wouldn’t lose him?

 

And then someone turned and there was a shout of recognition. “Dean! Where have you been? We saved you a beer! Better get in here quick, Fen’s already had a pack and a half-”

 

“Archangel metabolism!” Fenrir materialised in his gangly-limbed human form to protest, clapping Dean on the shoulder, all bright eyes and shaggy hair as he dragged him forwards into the spotlight of attention. “Pay no attention to him, I’ve hardly touched them!”

 

And suddenly, there were whoops and shouts of welcome coming from all around him. “Dean! Good to see you!” “Get in here, boy!” “About time you came inside!”

 

Dean waved them off, laughing, looking down to hide his reddening face as he took the offered beer, but there was no hiding from the glowing warmth in his own chest. Hands clapped him on the back, pushed him forwards into the centre of the room.

 

The way Sammy’s face lit up like Christmas when he emerged from the crowd made this whole thing worth it. 

 

“Dean! You came!”

 

“Well, I couldn’t let you make all the decisions or we’d end up with a literal picket fence.” Dean grumbled, perching himself on the arm of Bobby’s armchair, but he hoped that Sam could see the apology in his eyes. Sure enough, Sam’s gaze softened, his smile gentling. 

 

Dean cleared his throat. “So. You wanna set up a safe house, huh? Where are you thinking?”

  
  
Sam pursed his lips, brow wrinkling into his research-problem-face. “Well, that’s the problem. We can’t exactly put it in suburbia, too many potential innocent bystanders if things go south. Plus, it’ll be hard to blend in. The same applies to any cities- too many people who could find out who we really are.”

 

Dean nodded. “So it’s gotta be rural, then.”

 

Sam inclined his head. “So I started looking for big old houses, but none of them are what we need, you know? Half of them are too inaccessible, half of them don’t have the room to house all the books and extra people, and the rest are all dilapidated. We don’t want a crumbling wreck, we want something that’s gonna last.” He morosely minimised the tab.

 

Dean looked at him intently, leaning in with an elbow propped on his knee. “You’re really serious about this halfway house idea, huh?”

 

“Well, yeah. Since the Roadhouse nobody’s really had anywhere to go that wasn’t packed with civilians. And here is,” he gestured around at the crowds, “not ideal.” His voice dropped into something softer, more hesitant. “I was actually kinda hoping you’d help me run the place. Open up a little bar or something. You’ve always been better at this kind of scene then I am.”

 

And actually? Now that Dean was actually thinking about it as though it was a possibility? That sounded pretty great. He had a sudden flash of himself behind a bar, all warm light and lovingly-polished dark wood, pulling pints and laughing with the patrons, with his friends. Being able to come back from a hunt to a warm house and a good shower, to slough off his bloodstained clothes and put on fresh clean ones, to polish glasses with his gun-calloused hands. He could almost see Sammy and Cas and Gabe sitting there with him, smiling, their other patrons gathered round to hear him tell the stories of their most unlikely hunts.

 

He had to shake his head to dispel the thought. Even so, it lingered promisingly in the back of his mind.

 

“I’ll… I’ll think about it.” He had a thought. “Hey, if we can’t find a good place, why can’t you ask Gabe to magic something up?”

 

Sam grimaced. “He’s already suggested that, but I want to try everything else first. I want it to be…”

 

“Real?”

 

“Yeah. I just… want to find this for myself, you know?”

 

Dean nodded. He’d thought so. Sam had always been keen on his independence. “What did Gabe say when you told him you didn’t want a perfect pop-up palace?”

 

Sam gave a lopsided smile, his eyes going disgustingly soft and fond. “He never thought I’d go for it. He told me that I’d never taken the easy path in my entire life, and he didn’t expect me to start now.”

 

“Ooh my ears are burning, someone must be saying my name! Are you two gossipin’ about me again?”

 

Gabriel appeared with a rustle of feathers and a sharp  _ pop  _ between two startled hunters. He elbowed them aside, leaned over the back of Sam’s chair. Sam twisted around, that sappy grin already on his face, so Gabe could lean down and press a kiss on his lips.

 

There were a few whoops, a few groans. Dean caught a few of the older hunters looking at them disapprovingly out of the corner of his eye. Not that they would do anything- nobody would mess with Sam anymore (not after what happened to the first bigot), and Gabriel’s archangel status protected them from the worst. And if that wasn’t enough of a deterrent, the hunters all quickly looked away when they saw Bobby watching the proceedings with beady eyes and one hand stroking the barrel of his shotgun. 

 

Nevertheless, Dean mentally noted them down. It never hurt to know who you might not want watching your back in a hunt. Or who you might not want to invite to your super-secret-hunter-bar.

 

Sam and Gabe were still kissing, obviously playing it up for whoever was watching, and okay, maybe now they were taking it a little far with the PDA. They looked like they were trying to fuse themselves back into one body using only their mouths. “Get a room!” Dean yelled at them.

 

Gabriel raised his head with a smirk, Sam sinking back into his seat with his face more than a little flushed, and shifting as though it was just as well he had a laptop sitting over his crotch. Dean rolled his eyes. He could swear he’d never been this bad, even as a teenager. 

 

“ _ Anyway _ , before Mr. Unstoppable Libido butted in, you were looking for a house?” He prompted Sam.

 

“Oh. Yeah. Uh,” he cleared his throat. “So I’ve checked out most of the West coast, and some of the South, but there’s a lot of ground to cover, obviously. I was wondering if you’d help us look, Gabe?” He tilted his head back to look up at Gabriel again. 

 

Gabriel rested his crossed arms on the back of the chair so he could lean down and peer at Sam’s screen. “Hmm, I can help you look, yeah. Cassie might be able to help out too.”

 

“Don’t you have anywhere you want us to consider?” Dean asked him. Surely an archangel who’d been on earth for millennia would have homes dotted all over the place?

  
  
Gabriel shrugged. “Not really.” 

 

“Really?” Sam seemed surprised as well. “But you’ve been alive so long, I would have thought…”

  
  
“Places aren’t what makes a home, not really. It’s the people. And when those people are gone, or not who they once were, or you change into someone the old you wouldn’t even recognise, then sometimes you gotta go and make a new home for yourself. Build a new house, build a new family.” He reached down to scroll, avoiding both of their gazes. “You gotta find something that’s right for you. Not my old cast-offs.”

 

“It had to be for you too, Gabe,” Dean heard Sam murmur quietly, a private little whisper.

 

“You know my home is wherever you are, Sam.” 

 

Sam leaned towards him, brushing their foreheads together, and some of the strained casualness in Gabriel’s expression relaxed. His eyes flickered closed for a second as he leaned back, and somehow that little gesture was more intensely intimate than their kiss had been. Dean almost felt like he should look away, but at the same time, it made something glow warm in his chest.

 

Apparently, not everybody felt the same.

 

“God, right in the living room? Disgusting.” 

 

The words filtered from the back of the room, quiet but unmistakable, just loud enough to be heard over the group. 

 

Sam and Gabriel both froze. The chatter died out, everyone glancing uncertainty around. A small space cleared around one of the older hunters who’d been grimacing at Sam and Gabriel before. Dean tried to stand, but Bobby’s hand was suddenly on his arm, keeping him where he was.

 

“Harl…” one of the other hunters said awkwardly before their voice died out again.

 

“You got a problem, Harl?” Bobby’s voice rang out clear and challenging in the quiet. Everyone’s eyes jumped between the two of them.

 

“You know I do.” The man’s lips turned up in an ugly grimace as he cast Sam and Gabriel another disparaging glance. “Used to think you were better than this, Singer. Wouldn’t have thought you’d get yourself involved with a pair of-” 

 

“I’d watch the next words coming out of your mouth real careful if I were you, Harl,” Bobby sounded deceptively calm. “‘Cos if you’re saying what I think you’re saying, they’re gonna be your last.”

 

“Come on Harl, take it outside,” the other hunter said more urgently, but Harl was on a roll, pulling away from the restraining hand on his arm. 

 

“Oh yeah? You gonna shoot me, right here in your own house? Everyone knows you don’t stain the carpet with  _ human  _ blood.” He put a strange emphasis on human, one that put a nasty twist in Dean’s stomach. Suddenly, he was glad Cas wasn’t here to hear this crap. 

 

Harl kept going, warming to his new topic. “And what about the other one, huh? The pagan? As though we haven’t all hunted pagans? As though she could be anything but a monster!” He looked around, as though searching for support, but everyone was deathly silent. “I’m not worried about her, though. Soon enough, she’ll run out of power from lack of worship, and then she’ll be gone again. It’s the angels and demons and other unnatural beasts you’re letting live around here! You won’t shoot me Bobby, because you know it’s true!”

 

“Oh, he won’t need to.”

 

Everyone turned towards the voice. Gabriel’s head slowly rose, and Dean felt his heart jump in instinctive fear. His eyes were that terrible, swirling, furious gold that Dean had seen only a few times before- times when Gabriel was truly angry.

 

The room took a collective step back, several sharp intakes of breath resounding through the crowd. Dean realised that this was the first time a lot of them had seen what Gabriel really was. The archangel was too good at what he did. Too good at playing human. His wit and banter made it too easy to forget that underneath that under that thin exterior was something made of pure creation and light and power. 

 

And right now, that power was all rage. The wrath was boiling off him in tangible waves, making the lights in the room flicker and the windows rattle in their frames. “Bobby won’t need to bother soaking your tainted blood out of the carpet, because by the time I’m done with you?” Gabriel’s voice resonated through the room with supernatural intensity, making the Sumerian vases clatter on the desk, “We’ll be able to hoover up your sorry remains and turn you into lawn fertiliser!”

 

Harl took another step back. Maybe he finally realised what a massive mistake he was making? For once Sam was silent, and when Dean turned to look at them, his expression was chillingly cold next to the fire of Gabriel’s anger. The sight of them both made Dean want to take a step back too. He had no doubt that if Gabriel went in for the kill, that Sam would make no effort whatsoever to stop him.

 

“Harl, get the hell out.”

 

Everyone turned towards the new voice. It was another hunter, a large, gruff, bearded man with a machete strapped across his back. Dean recognised him- Sam had teamed up with him to take down a black dog a few months back.

 

“You’re outta line,” a woman spoke up as well, her thin face carved into hard lines. “We don’t need that kinda talk around here. Especially not against out friends. If you can’t keep a civil tongue in your head, you know where the door is.” She looked around at the rest of the crowd with a steely gaze. “And that goes for everyone.”

 

There were murmurs if agreement. When he looked around, Dean saw that even a few of those who had been looking disapprovingly earlier were nodding along reluctantly. A few more slipped out unobtrusively, although whether that was in protest or to avoid the looming atmosphere of impending violence he couldn’t be sure.

 

But the vast majority of the room were standing in their defence. That was a pleasant surprise. He had honestly thought they were alone on this one. But, he thought proudly, it looked as though for the hunters, as isolated and stubborn as they often were, loyalty was winning over prejudice. 

 

“Have you all gone mad?” Harl sneered. The bearded hunter scowled, stepping towards him with his fists clenched.

 

“Hey!” Harl’s voice rose again, this time to a shout as he tried to sidestep only to be restrained. The other hunters hustled him out of the room, the commotion echoing as he was shoved down the corridor. The front door slammed. Dean could still hear him yelling in the yard. Then, there was the sound of a car starting up, peeling away.

 

Nobody seemed to know what to do in the awkward space that was left. Sam and Gabriel were still frozen where they were, everyone else looking around for guidance.

 

A loud ring shattered the charged silence. 

 

Dean jumped, swearing under his breath. Bobby shook his head, then turned to pick up the phone. 

 

The room seemed to unfreeze, cautious murmuring starting back up again, people splitting off to discuss, many subtly clapping Gabriel on the back or patting Sam on the arm as they went past. 

 

Dean ignored everyone else, focusing on his brother. “You okay?”

 

Sam let out a shaky sigh, his hand unclenching from the arm of the sofa. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He caught Gabriel’s raised eyebrow. “Well… I’m okay. Or I will be. I guess I’d almost forgotten we’d have to face… that, eventually.” He ran a hand through his hair, grimaced. “I’m glad that the others seem to be on our side. And I’m glad we never had to go through this with Dad.”

 

“Yeah, me too. But it sucks that you gotta go through it with anyone. You don’t need random douchwads spouting off their dumb, backwards opinions on your relationship.”

 

That made the corner of Sam’s mouth turn up, just a little bit, and Dean felt a little thrill of achievement.

 

Bobby interrupted them, phone still pressed to his ear. “Boys, as much as I hate to break up the party- we got a problem.”

 

.o0o.

 

“This is bullshit,” Dean huffed, pulling his coat a little tighter around himself. “You’re telling me you have no idea where this sea monster is, but you need us to fix it?”

 

The pier they were standing on jutted a few hundred meters out into the uninviting-looking sea on long stilts. It wasn’t the most idyllic spot, and the overcast weather wasn’t helping, the grey bellies of the clouds hanging low and pregnant over the water, threatening rain at any minute. The coast stretched out on either side of them, grey waves slowly rolling onto the abandoned beaches from an endless ocean, their white caps the only thing that stopped the water from blending seamlessly into the grey sky above. Another gust of wind wormed its way up under Dean’s coat. He tugged it moodily tighter around himself. Sam was looking no better. Gabe and Cas were the only ones who didn’t look like they were feeling the chill- Gabe was wearing nothing but shorts, a flowery Hawaiian shirt and a smug grin, probably to see how hard he could make Sam roll his eyes. He was succeeding.

 

Todd, the hunter who’d been working on it before they showed up, shifted nervously. He seemed almost in awe of them- and intimidated by the fact they’d come to help him out. Which was ridiculous, obviously. “Look,” he mumbled, “It was here yesterday, I figure it can’t have gotten far.”

 

“Well, we can’t hunt something if we can’t find it. You remember any tracking spells for sea monster, Sammy? Cas?”

 

The edges of Cas’ trench coat flapped in the wind. “I think there is a binding spell in ancient Greek that-”

 

“No need.” They all turned to Gabe. He was looking out to sea, an odd expression on his face. “I know who it is. I can feel him.”

 

“Him? Wait, you know what’s doing this?”

  
  
Even as Dean said it, something pinged in the back of his memory. A story about Loki, a giantess and an enormous serpent...

 

The confident grin was back of Gabriel’s face as though it had never left by the time he turned back to face them. “Alrighty, give me a few minutes and we can clear this little misunderstanding right up!”

  
  
“Misunderstanding?” Todd said in disbelief, “It’s eating people!”

 

“Like I said, little misunderstanding. Which I will solve by doing what I do best- talking! You get to see my amazing powers of communication in action, and nobody, that’s right  _ nobody _ , has to get killed.” Gabriel gave Todd a hard admonishing glance, then snapped his fingers, his golden kazoo appearing between them. “Watch and learn, kids.”

 

With a dramatic flourish, Gabriel raised the instrument to his lips and blew. 

 

The sound of the Horn was as resonant and glorious as Dean remembered. A patch of trembling ripples spread out from the end of the pier, the water quivering as though the sound was solid enough to manifest itself as a sudden breeze.

 

For a few moments, the water was still. The seagulls slowly start squawking again, and to Dean’s surprise, nobody came running along the beachfront to see what the noise was. All of them waited, looking around for something to happen. But Gabriel’s eyes were fixed far out at sea. Dean followed his gaze.

 

In the distance, against the horizon, something long and dark stirred.

 

“What the hell is that?” Todd whispered beside him, but Dean’s gaze was fixed on the shadow beneath the surface as it got closer and closer, seeming to get larger as it came. There it was. Bubbles rose and the water seethed as though it was boiling, and from the roiling water something enormous emerged. Something scaly and slithering, straight from the depths of ancient legends and horror stories told to children.

 

But then, as it neared the shore, it seemed to be… getting smaller? The great beast shrank and shrank and shrank, until it was able to swim right up to them, a long neck rearing up high in front of them, the wooden struts of the pier groaning in a chorus of displeasure as scaled coils wrapped around them. Next to Dean, Todd let out a terrified squeak. A golden reptilian eye focused on them, the mouth falling open in a dagger-toothed smile.

 

A great deep voice rumbled between them, resonating in their bones.  _ “Father! Long time, no ssssee!” _

 

Gabriel stepped forwards, looking as relaxed as if they were sharing a beer in Bobby’s living room. “Jormy! Hey, kiddo! How have you been?”

 

Jormy. Jormungandr. Another one of Loki’s children, of  _ course _ , he should have known. Although, looking at the size of ‘Jormy’, Dean had… so many questions. And he wasn’t sure he wanted the answers to  _ any  _ of them. 

 

Gabriel leant forwards on the railings. “So. Jormy. We gotta discuss something.”

  
  
_ “Yessssss?” _

 

“Those boats you’ve been eating.”

 

A forked tongue darted out, flickering to taste the air before vanishing back into the serrated cavern Jormungandr called a mouth.  _ “Mmmmm yesssss the metal is so tasssssty! And oil tastes like dinosaurs. They have been good eating since I disssscovered them a few months back. Why?” _

 

“You’re gonna have to stop eating them, kiddo. The hunters aren’t taking to you eating people very well. Maybe lay off on the yacht-munching, yeah?”

 

The great serpent froze, one huge wide eye fixing on them, pupil contracting to a slit.  _ “THERE WERE HUMANS ON THOSE BOATS!?”  _ The coils around the pier supports tightened, and Dean grabbed onto the handrail as the wood gave a worrying creak.

 

Gabriel patted a scaly flank consolingly. “Nobody the world wouldn’t be better off without. They were super-yachts, Jorgy. Not usually owned by the best sorts of humans. I’ll resurrect the rest of the crews, so just don’t do it again, yeah?”

 

“Somebody took ‘eat the rich’ to a whole new level,” Dean muttered quietly to himself. Cas gave him a narrow-eyed sideways glance. Dean shrugged. “I got no problems with it. He wants to eat some billionaires, I say we let him have ‘em.”

 

Jormungandr was somehow managing to look guilty. His head drooped in his scaly neck.  _ “I didn’t know… ssssorry…” _

 

Gabriel walked right up to him, stroking the long scaly spines poking from the back of Jormungandr’s angular head. “No harm no foul. I’ll let the rest of the hunters know. Hey, maybe we could scrounge up some old boats for you…” 

 

While Gabriel and Sam got into a discussion about alternative sources of environmental pollution Jormy could potentially snack on (“Oh! Do you like plastic? Yeah? Well, there’s a whole lot of it floating in the pacific ocean…), Dean turned around to find Todd still standing there staring. The poor man was looking a little shellshocked. It was a reaction that Dean had seen before- even regular hunters usually had nothing on the madness of the Winchesters’ daily lives.

 

Dean clapped him on the shoulder. “You’ll get used to it. Come on, let’s get into the warm while they sort this out, or I’m gonna start losing fingers.”

 

Just as they departed, Dean heard Jormungandr speak again, his deep voice rumbling back to them.  _ “There was sssomething else to tell you, father. There was a witch on one of the yachtsss. I didn’t eat her, she was too fast and she looked all ssstringy. But she told me to pass you a message. She sssaid she had a house?"   _ A house?  Dean put a hand on Todd's shoulder to hold him back as he stopped to listen in. _ "Sssomething like that. But that you needed to phone her, because she ‘wasn’t going near that hive of hunters unless her life depended on it’.”  _

 

“A house, eh?” Gabriel sounded interested. “What did this witch look like?”

  
The great serpent paused.  _ “Red hair. She had long red hair. And she smelled like haggis.” _

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

It was, mercifully, a short trip back to Bobby's. Even Dean could admit that he wouldn’t have relished the twelve hour drive to the coast. As it was, the flight took barely one uncomfortable second, and then they were all staggering around in Bobby’s dusty driveway. 

 

Dean waved off Cas’ concerned hand, bracing himself on his knees. He swallowed, his jaw working, before he straightened up. He could already feel his digestive system objecting to being zapped across the country. Fuck angel air, honestly. 

 

Sam, the lucky bastard, was already recovered and leading a shaky-looking Todd inside. Cas was still next to him, casting him the occasional glance to make sure he was okay without crowding him. Dean sent him a quick grimace of reassurance, and some of the stiffness went out of his shoulders. Dean grinned despite himself as they turned back to the house. It still caught him by surprise sometimes, realising how much Cas cared. But then he remembered what he needed to talk to Gabriel about, and his smile faded.

 

Bobby’s house was less crowded today, thank Chuck. Maybe the near-fight the night before had put people off, he considered. Or maybe everyone was just tired of squashing into Bobby’s tiny, tiny rooms. 

 

As they walked in, Dean pulled Gabriel aside before they reached the kitchen, letting the others file past them. Gabriel looked up at him, an eyebrow quirking. “What’s up?”

 

“Hey, there’s something that asshat from last night said, and it’s got me worried. I wanted to talk to you about it.” He retreated further into the hallway, glancing towards the kitchen to make sure Sam wasn’t coming. Gabriel followed him, looking increasingly suspicious.

 

“He said Gaia was running out of juice or some shit. What does that mean?”

 

Gabriel’s expression dropped into something serious and worried before shuttering into false cheer.

 

“Don’t worry your pretty head about it, I got it all under control.”

 

“Gabe, come on man.” Dean growled under his breath. “Tell it to me straight. Is Gaia dying?”

 

Gabriel was waggling his eyebrows before he’d even finished. “No chance of me telling you anything strai…” He deflated when he saw Dean’s unamused expression. “Alright. Fine.”

 

“She’s dying?”

 

They both turned. Sam was standing in the doorway, a look of absolute devastation on his face, and internally, Dean cursed. This was what he’d been trying to avoid. “I don’t know, Sammy, that’s what I’m trying to find out.” 

 

“Gabe?”

 

Gabriel had drooped even more by the time Dean turned back to look at him, deliberately avoiding Sam’s betrayed gaze. Dean squared his shoulders. “Look, I might not know a lot about how pagans work, but I know that they need worshippers. And as much as that asshat the other night got everything else wrong, he was right about that. Gaia’s not got any worshippers, she’s got nobody making sacrifices or alters or any of that godly stuff. Is she gonna run out of power? Is there anything we can-”

 

“No.” Gabriel cut him off sharply, then sighed, running a hand through his hair. The carefree facade had dropped away completely, and Dean suddenly realised how tired the archangel looked. “I’ve already tried. She isn’t compatible with heaven’s belief energy, or any other type that we’ve tried, including Kali’s. Which makes sense, seeing that she has her own unique energy signature.”

 

They were all silent for a moment before Sam asked quietly, “So… what’s she going to do?”

 

“We’re not entirely sure yet. We’ve thought about setting something up online, but it would be hard to do that without it either fading into oblivion or becoming some sort of batshit crazy cult, and she said she doesn’t want to risk it harming anyone. Turns out there aren’t many people who will believe in a god if it looks like you’ve literally just made them up, and we decided against shows of power as well. It might get her more devoted worshippers, but there’s the risk of somebody catching it on camera and it going viral, and none of us need that. There’s such a thing as too much attention.”

 

Dean sighed. “Gabe, man, why didn’t you tell us?”

 

“She told me not to!”

 

“You weren’t even gonna tell me?” Sam asked quietly.

 

Gabriel looked between them, a drawn, desperate, trapped look on his face. “I wanted to tell you all, trust me! But she swore me to secrecy about it. Me and Kali. Said she didn’t want to put more on your plates. I think,” he hesitated, “you want the truth? I think she’s given up. She doesn’t think she’s gonna make it outta this.” He closed his eyes. “It’s been happening slowly. At first, I thought I could just fix it. But she’s been slowly getting weaker. I was trying to persuade her to tell the rest of you, but she always was independent.” He huffed, smiling sadly.

 

“How much time has she got?”

 

Gabriel shoved off the wall, walking dispiritedly through to the kitchen. “A year, maybe two if she uses her powers as little as possible.”

 

Sam was still looking hurt, but Dean pitched in before he could open his mouth, putting a hand on his arm. “You’ve told us now, and it’s not too late, that’s all that matters.” He knew a thing or two about being made to keep horrible secrets from people you cared for. And as much as it might have been unfair for Gaia to ask Gabriel to keep that from them, he couldn’t blame her either; he knew if it had been him in that position, he would have done the exact same thing. The situation sucked all round. “Hmm. So she can’t accept energy from other sources. Why?”

 

Gabriel collapsed into his seat with a sigh, “Because the type of energy is specific to the type of sacrifice and the deity worshipped. If it’s devoted to someone, then nobody else can get at it.”

 

“So people need to worship  _ her _ , specifically.” Dean thought some more, pulling out his own chair. Across from him, Sam sat down as well. “Do we need people to worship her as a fertility goddess? I know that was what she was in the past.”

 

“Not necessarily. Fertility was only part of her remit- protection and hunting success was her gig as well. Just as long as people don’t start doing blood sacrifices or anything else that might change her nature, we’re golden. Getting enough people in on the worship is the main problem.”

 

Dean nodded. “So that’s simple. She becomes a goddess of hunters.”

  
  
Sam and Gabe turned to stare at him like it wasn’t obvious. “Come on, it’s not hard.” Dean cajoled them. “Success of the hunt? Protection? Think about it. It’s not so far from what she used to do. Hunters are the only reliable group I know of that know about pagan gods as a concrete fact. And hunters need all the divine protection we can get. We set people up to worship Gaia with Bobby’s help, she blesses hunts, it shouldn’t take too long before it spreads through the community, especially now we got almost everyone gathered in one place.”

 

“Yeah,” Sam breathed, eyes shining as he worked the possibility over. “Yeah, that would work!”

 

Gabriel sat up straight, looking at him wide-eyed. “Why the hell didn’t I think of that before?”

 

A deep voice sounded above him. “Dean has always been good at problem solving.” Dean turned to find Cas smiling down at him with pride glimmering in his eyes.

 

Gabriel laughed, flopping back in his seat, his face relaxing into exhausted relief. Cas looked up at him.

 

“Brother, go and rest. You’re exhausted.”

 

It must have been true, because Gabriel didn’t even reply with a sarcastic comment, just heaved himself up and headed for the door. “Adios, amigos. You coming Sammy? I need my favourite bed warmer!”

 

Sam rolled his eyes fondly and got up to follow. Cas caught his eye as he left the room. “Look after him, Sam. My brother is not nearly as impenetrable as he likes to appear.”

 

Sam returned a rueful little smile. “Trust me, Cas, I know.” He vanished upstairs after Gabriel. 

 

“They’d better remember the silencing spell this time,” Dean grumbled in the silence they’d left.

 

Cas just smiled again, leaning over to put his hands on Dean’s shoulders and press a kiss to his hair. “You know they never remember the silencing spell.”

 

“Oh, I know alright.”

 

...

 

Gabriel flopped backwards onto the bed, letting his body bounce with a creak of ancient springs. He groaned. When he opened his eyes, Sam’s face was hovering over him, looking down at him in amusement.

 

“I’m not moving. If you want on this bed too, you’re gonna have to lie on me.”

 

“You say that like it’s gonna put me off.” Sam sat with a creak and a bounce as well, bending over to un-lace his boots.

 

There was a peaceful silence for a second, the only sound the slight shifts of fabric as Sam shrugged off his top layer. When was the last time they'd stopped like this, Gabriel thought to himself? A month ago? Two? He honestly couldn't remember, which was everything that needed to be said about the situation. Gabriel closed his eyes for a moment, relishing the peace and quiet. 

 

Hmm. Too peaceful. Sam seemed quieter than usual. Gabriel raised his head to get a good look at him.

 

Sam’s face was contemplative, that little worry wrinkle he got between his eyebrows out in full force. He'd stalled after taking off his shoes, staring blindly at the far wall as thoughts flickered behind his eyes. His soul flickered dimmer under his skin.

 

Gabriel sighed. He propped himself up on his elbows with great effort. “Okay. Come on. Spit it out.”

 

Sam turned to look at him. “Huh?”

 

“Whatever you’re gnawing on in there. I wanna hear it.”

 

Sam shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t want to… you’ve just got back, Gabe. And you’ve been so stressed. I think you deserve some time to relax before I dump all my issues on you, too.”

 

“I  _ am _ relaxed. And I think we proved tonight that keeping my problems to myself ended up causing me more stress in the end than getting them out there ever could.” Sam fidgeted again, and Gabriel put a hand on his leg to still him, rubbing small circles with his thumb. “Hey. I know I’ve been busy for a long, long time. I’ve been trying, Hell, we’ve both been trying, but I haven’t been around nearly as much as I’d like these last few months. I can see you’ve been holding it all in. So just tell me, yeah? You can help me preen while you’re at it if it makes you feel better.” He extended one wing towards the material plane in hopeful invitation.

 

Despite his worry, Sam smiled, shifting so he was cross-legged and pulling the wing into his lap. “When did you get so mature and sensible? Where’s my Gabriel, what have you done with him?” he teased, enormous hands running through the feathers in a way that always managed to turn Gabriel’s limbs to jelly. 

 

“You got me, I’m a pod person,” Gabriel slurred, face already mushed half into the blankets. That managed to get a chuckle out of him. Gabriel gave a full-body shudder as Sam lifted up his secondary coverts to gently scratch the delicate skin underneath. Ooh, that was good.

 

“Is it about Gaia?” He pulled himself together enough to ask. “I’m sorry for not telling you about her sooner. I wanted to.”

 

“It’s alright, I forgive you,” Sam carded a hand briefly through his hair before going back to rearranging feathers. “I don’t like it, but… I get it. And it wasn’t about that.” He took a deep breath. “I’m worried. About that hunter the other night. Harl. It’s just… what if he comes back?”

 

His hand stopped moving. He was looking down, not meeting Gabriel’s eyes.

 

Gabriel sat up, twisting to take Sam’s hands in his, his wings coming around to cover them like their own personal tent. “Sam. I can see souls. Do you think I woulda let him walk out of that room if I thought he was that far gone?”

 

Sam’s gaze was still fixed on their joined hands. “I know you wouldn’t. And I know it’s unlikely that anything would happen. You’re fully powered now, and technically we’d be able to take him no problem. But… it’s just… we let Walt go. Twice.” He looked up. “We let him get away and he came back and he… I can’t lose you again.” 

 

His voice broke a little on the last words, and that was it. Gabriel had pulled him into his arms before he even knew it, and Sam’s face was buried in his shoulder, clutching him back with desperation. 

 

“He’s not gonna get me, and he’s not gonna get you,” Gabriel said with fierce conviction. “I promise, kiddo.”

 

Sam buried his face even deeper into his jacket. Then he drew away, but Gabriel saw that his brow was still furrowed. “But something will. Not, listen,” he held up his hand when Gabriel opened his mouth, “eventually, something will get me. It doesn’t matter whether it’s Harl, or a vampire, or… or one too many of Dean’s greasy diner burgers. I’m mortal. And you’re not.” He looked away with anguish in his eyes.

 

Oh. So that was the problem. Well, they were long overdue this conversation.

 

“How long have you been letting this get to you, sweetheart?” Gabriel asked gently. He knew the answer to that question- too long, the moron. Sure enough, Sam cast a guilty sideways look at him. He’d obviously been letting himself stew in this for ages. Gabriel shook his head fondly. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. Let’s just say I’ve got a few plans, but we’ve got a while to talk about it. A long, long while.”

 

Sam looked at him sharply. “You’ve seen that?”

 

Gabriel shrugged one shoulder. “Bits and pieces. Not any sorta detail, but enough to know that you don’t have to worry about it. We’ve got a whole lifetime to decide yet. I just wasn’t sure if I should tell you, cos… well. Humans aren’t really designed to know what’s coming, and I didn’t want to change anything by accident. Butterfly effect, and all that. But I figure that if there’s any human it’s safe to give a sneak peek to, it’s you.”

 

“Huh.”

 

Sam blinked, dropping backwards onto the bed. He didn’t look worried anymore, thankfully. He just looked stunned.

 

Gabriel chuckled. “What’s up with you?”

 

“I dunno, I just… never really imagined that I’d have a whole life, you know?” Sam gestured vaguely at the ceiling. “I never thought I’d die early, like Dean did, but I guess I never… I never imagined  _ living  _ either.” 

 

He looked up at Gabriel with those damn puppy eyes of his, and wasn’t that sad? That Sam hadn’t even thought he’d get one short human lifetime. That he’d assumed, on some level, that even that would be cut brutally short. And to be fair to him, he’d been right. The next time Sam died it wouldn’t be his first time around that particular block.

 

Gabriel smiled sadly down at him, pushing a lock of hair behind his ear. “Like I’d ever let you go that easily. I love you, ya big idiot.”

 

The words slipped out before he’d even thought about them, easy as a bar of soap in a wet bathtub and just as difficult to retrieve. He winced. But then he realised, he didn’t want to take them back. He didn’t have to worry about Sam reacting badly to him displaying affection, he knew that; but it was hard to shake the habit.

 

Sam smiled, his whole face crinkling and lighting up. Like the sun rising. Those big hands reached up, pulled Gabriel down to the bed with him. “Love you too. Now get down here.”

 

And what was there left for Gabriel to do except kiss him? 

 

They kissed for what could have been minutes could have been hours, that lazy sort of making out that wasn’t about getting anywhere, not really. It was about warmth and closeness. Intimacy. It was about letting one another know that they were here, now.

 

Eventually, Sam broke off. Gabriel kept going, pressing slow kisses against his chin, his throat, his collarbone. “Is it weird that I miss it?”

 

Gabriel pulled away to look at his face. “Miss what?”

 

Sam’s voice was a quiet, little more than a mumble. “Is it weird that… that I miss possession?” he admitted, “I miss your thoughts. I miss feeling you here.” He put a hand over his chest, rubbing like he was trying to get rid of a phantom sensation. “But I know I would miss having you in the physical world as well if you were in here with me. I just can’t win.” He huffed, looking away. “I suppose I’m just being greedy.”

 

Greedy? Sam thought he was  _ greedy  _ for missing that intimacy with him? Gabriel couldn’t let this stand. He caught hold of Sam’s chin, gently turning him back towards him, leaving his palm cradling Sam’s face. For a second Sam wouldn’t fully meet his eyes. Gabriel dipped his head, catching his darting gaze until his eyes stilled, steady again.

 

“It’s not greedy.” He leaned forwards, pressed a gentle peck against his lips. “Don’t you ever imagine that you’re greedy for wanting that.”

 

Sam opened his mouth a little, probably to protest, so Gabriel cut him off with a kiss. A proper one this time. He opened his mouth wide against Sam’s, one hand cradling his jaw, the other cradling the back of his head, tasting his surprised gasp of their shared air, feeling his shoulders slump as he finally let himself relax. He let the kiss get even deeper, winding his arms and wings around him and feeling Sam embrace him in return, big hands stroking up his back and carding through the hair at the nape of his neck, rubbing where his wings emerged from his vessel to make him shiver. A wave of  _ need _ , almost a prayer wafted from his mind, and Gabriel had a sudden lightbulb moment of inspiration.

 

Carefully, he let a trickle of his grace slip out, winding hot past their teeth, sliding down Sam’s throat. Sam’s gasp turned into a sharp inhale, his eyes opening wide and shocked an inch away, and Gabriel could see the blue of himself flickering in the depths of his blown pupils. He would have pulled away to ask before he went any further, but the desperate chanting of  _ yes!yes!yes!yes!  _ almost screaming from Sam’s soul was answer enough. 

 

Gabriel closed his eyes, concentrating on pouring a little more of himself into Sam, not enough for true possession but just enough to brush against his mind.  **_It’s not greedy not to want to be alone,_ ** he whispered. 

 

Sam gave a desperate little whimper, his soul surging forwards within the confines of his body even as his body lurched forwards, all of  _ Sam  _ pressing up against him, and the sudden brightness of that iridescent soul lighting up was almost enough to blind. They were already so  _ close _ . It would be so easy, so natural to lean in, to wrap him up in his grace, become one creature like they had been before…

 

But no. Not today.

 

When Gabriel finally drew back, Sam was gasping like he couldn’t get enough air, chest billowing frantically. “Easy, easy.” 

 

Gabriel waited until he started to calm, gently rubbing his back. Sam’s heart was galloping under his hands like he’d been sprinting. He laughed, breathless and exhilarated.

 

“Holy shit, let’s do that again!”

 

So obviously, that was when Dean knocked on the door.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter of this one to go, and GOOD NEWS, it's finished!! Expect to see that sometime in the next two days once it's all pretty and edited!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which they are finally home.

 

_ Fifteen Minutes Ago _

 

Dean swung himself backwards on his chair. Balancing precariously on two legs, he leaned backwards, staring at the ceiling. He huffed to himself. Cas had left shortly after Gabe and Sam, presumably to try and track down Bobby to tell him about Dean’s plan for Gaia and the hunters, and Dean was already bored. 

 

No, scratch that he told himself sternly, he wasn’t bored and he knew it. He was lonely. 

 

There was a creak of springs from the room just above him, the sound of quiet conversation. Dean grimaced to himself. Should he just give up and go work on baby till they got it out of their systems?

 

No! He refused to be sexiled from the entire house. He just had to distract himself, that was all. Find something to do other than just sitting there listening to them both moan like they were making porn. He shuddered to himself at the mental image.

 

Quickly, he pulled out his phone. He might as well do something useful. He punched in the number that Rowena had apparently given to Jormungandr, pressing it to his ear. There were only two rings before it answered with a  _ click _ . 

 

“Who is this?”

 

“Hey Rowena.” The bed in the room above creaked. Dean purposefully tuned it out. “We met your messenger. He said you got something for us?”

  
“Dean!” Her scottish lilt crackled down the line, accompanied by an odd array of sounds in the background- there was metallic clanking, and was that someone chanting? “I was hoping to hear your handsome brother’s dulcet tones, but it’s nice of you to finally call! A lady gets lonely when her friends don’t keep on contact.” She pouted audibly. 

 

“Yeah, well, you’re no lady.” Rowena burst into loud peals of laughter, but didn’t bother denying it. Dean cracked a smile. “And you keep changing your number. So, why did you tell us to contact you?” 

 

“Oh! That! Well, I hear you boys are house hunting!” 

 

Dean frowned, letting the front legs of his chair fall to the floor with a thump. “How do you even know about that?”

 

“Trade secret,” Rowena purred. Dean could practically hear her sly smirk down the line. “Anyway, I have some information I thought you might be interested in. But if you don’t want to know…”

 

“No no, go on,” Dean said hastily.

 

“Well, I heard about your problem, and I was reminded of some… old friends, and they had a place you might like. But I was a tad busy so I asked dear Fen to carry the message for me. Then the cheeky sod told me to tell you myself! I talked to his brother instead, but still. Mangy old wolf’s probably still bitter about that time I chained him up…”

 

“You  _ what!? _ ” Dean felt his eyes go wide. 

 

Rowena chuckled. “Oh, I didn’t tell you? Well,” she took a deep breath, like she was telling a favourite story, “it was a drunken dare, you see. I was at a Hogmanay booze-up in Edinburgh in, och when was it, about eighteen hundred? There were a whole lot of us there, and we were havin’ a wild time. I’d already had a few, but then someone brought out the bucky, and you know when the wreck-the-hoose-juice comes out that the night’s only going downhill from there.” 

 

There was a crash and a shriek in the background which Rowena ignored. Dean transferred the phone to his other ear, picking up a half-packed salt round to fiddle with. “Not a clue what ‘bucky’ is, but it sounds like I need to get my hands on some.”

 

Rowena chuckled. “You might drink that swill Americans call whisky, Winchester, but you couldn’t handle buckfast wine. Anyway, after a few crates, one of the lasses from the Glasgow coven bragged that they’d managed to find some of the Gleipnir, you know, the chain from the myth? The one they managed to bind him with the first time?”

 

Dean raised an eyebrow, pressing the phone against his ear with his shoulder as he packed more salt into the shot. “So that meant you just had to go try and annoy a demigod, right?”

 

“Exactly! At least someone gets it.” Rowena released a static-filled sigh. “We weren’t even going to capture him long! She dared me to put it around his muzzle and ride him to Edinburgh castle, up the royal mile. Well, I’ll never forget the looks on everyone’s faces as we went galloping past!” She sighed with reminiscence.

 

“I’m not surprised he didn’t like you.”   
  
“Well, no, he wasn’t very happy when we let him go, but that was no reason to go about trying to kill me when he finally got the muzzle off, was it?”

 

Dean narrowed his eyes. “How long did you keep him for? Weeks?”

 

“Well, no, months actually, but do you blame me? The big lug was so useful! I got him to eat that stuck-up bitch from the Northumbrian coven for me before he got away, not that he took much convincing after she called him a ‘cute wee doggie’,” she sniffed. 

 

“Uh-huh. Well, whatever.” Dean shook his head. “Anyway. You had information for us about a house?”

 

“Oh yes. Well, a few years ago I had a run in with some charming rogues from an organisation who called themselves the Men of Letters. Have you heard of them? No? I’m not surprised. They’re a secretive bunch. Anyway, we’ve had a little bit of a… let’s call it a friendly rivalry ever since. And I’ve heard a rumour on the grapevine that a certain US cell was wiped out some years ago, leaving a treasure trove of secret bases totally unoccupied like the wasteful wank stains that they are.” She sighed regretfully. “I never managed to find their hidey-hole, obviously. But with that archangel of yours, who knows?”

 

Dean’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Really? A secret society? What is this, James Bond?” He scoffed. “And if it’s true, why are you telling us about it? I wouldn’t have thought you’d want hunters having a secret base.”

 

She sniffed. “Believe it or not, there used to be a truce between the covens and hunters in Scotland and Northern England. Spirits and monsters were taken care of, anyone who went too far on either side was taken out. Not to say that there weren’t problems and politics, but when aren’t there? And then those bigoted bastards came up and messed it all up with their purist attitudes. True, the truce was boring- but outright warfare is worse. They drove the covens- my people- underground. They made them desperate. People do bad things when they’re desperate. Dark things.” There was a short, charged pause. When she started speaking again, her voice was deceptively chipper. “So yes. I’ll take any opportunity for revenge that I can get. And I can think of nothing that would annoy those stodgy, pompous auld bawbags more than their secret bases being infiltrated by dozens of unwashed hunters.”

 

Now  _ that  _ sounded more like Rowena. Dean nodded to himself. “So you’re telling us this out of spite.”

 

“Got it in one!” She told him jauntily. 

 

“Well, thanks for the info. We’ll check it out.”

 

“I expect an invite to the housewarming party!” She laughed, and there was another crash and more screaming in the background. “Damn it Rosa! Sorry Dean, got to go, say hello to the archangel and that handsome brother of yours for me!  _ Och, what have I told ye? NO summoning the outworld abominations without putting down a protective cloth first or there’ll be slime everywhere! Now I’m gonna have to clean up all this feckin’ mess- _ “ the call cut off abruptly. 

 

Dean blinked at the darkened screen for a moment before rolling his eyes and getting up. Trying his hardest not to listen, he climbed the stairs, rapping loudly on the door. No time to lose.

 

“Hey, lovebirds! We’ve got a secret lair to find!”

 

.o0o.

 

Gabriel found it, in the end, by looking for things that weren’t there.

 

Apparently, looking for empty spaces where wards were was an exhausting business. (“It’s like a human trying to see the backs of their own eyeballs,” Gabriel grumbled. 

 

“We can’t, though?” Dean raised one eyebrow.

 

“Exactly!”)

 

As it turned out, there were quite a few blank patches to archangel vision in the mainland US. They split up to investigate the potential spots for efficiency’s sake- Cas took Sam and Dean, while Bobby accompanied Gabriel. Sam had to admit that Dean had got it right with allocating teams. If he and Gabriel had been paired together, not a lot of searching would have been happening.

 

First, they stopped at a river bank in California. Nothing to see there. Then there was a bleak, windswept hillside. Nothing there either. The third location was a bustling high street, and it took them a morning of fruitless searching until they were certain they’d made sure it was devoid of concealed secret bases. 

 

On the fourth location, they hit the jackpot.

 

“Well, this is cheery.”

 

Sam looked up at the blocky brick-and-concrete exterior, with its looming chimneys and its derelict industrial atmosphere, and had to agree with his brother. Lines of moss drew his eyes down the grimy walls, following the runnels of rainwater, before vanishing into the thick undergrowth that surrounded the place. Give it a few more decades and Sam could tell that nature would quickly reclaim it. Maybe it  _ was _ just another forgotten gas plant. 

 

But they needed to check, and this site was the most promising they’d seen so far. A particularly moss-ridden damp patch drew his eyes to a set of steps, leading down to a door recessed below ground level. 

 

“Look. Check it out.”

 

He walked towards it, hearing the rest of their little party trooping along behind him, until he reached the steps. The sound of his own footsteps echoed oddly back at him as he descended, damp moss-covered concrete slippery under his shoes. He looked back up when he reached the bottom, to where the other two were gathered at the top, watching him. Dean gave him a thumbs up. He turned back and peered to look closer. 

 

There were thick rust stains running down the door, but apart from that the hinges seemed remarkably intact. He tried his lock pick, but nothing. Something magical then. He felt his heart pick up, his stomach tensing with excitement. This was the place. It had to be.

 

“Cas?” He asked. In a second, the seraph was at his side, one hand pressed against the stubborn door.

 

The lock clicked.

 

Sam gave it a push. The door swung open on silent hinges.

 

The space inside was dark and silent as a tomb. Sam stepped forwards.

 

“Hello?”

 

His voice echoed back to him with surprising resonance- how large was the room? It sounded big. Flicking on his torch, Sam stepped in.

 

The beam swept out and down, illuminating a balcony, reflecting from a metal staircase, showing pillars and the dulled lustre of polished wooden floors. Sam let his eyes rove over it, getting wider and wider, more and more disbelieving the more his meagre light uncovered. The air smelt stale and dusty, dry and cool, like the inside of Gaia’s cave. Like they were the first people to enter here in years.

 

Behind him, Dean made a noise of discovery. There was a clunk, then a buzz and an electronic whirr as the fights flickered on, illuminating the whole wide space. They all stood there at the top of the steps, gaping down into the room below.

 

“Woah.”

 

It really was the motherload. Sam could hardly take it all in. They all walked down the staircase, wandering into the main room, still gaping around in disbelief. Finally, after all that searching, they’d found it. The perfect place. 

 

Dean broke the wondering silence. “Hell yeah! Secret bunker!”

 

Sam laughed. “And you were the one who didn’t even  _ want  _ a house!”

 

“That’s because houses are not cool, Sam.  _ This  _ is cool. It’s like a secret lair!” Now that their initial hesitance had been broken, Dean looked like a kid in a candy store, unable to stop himself from running around in excitement, barely having time to check out one thing before another caught his attention. He lifted one of the antique swords from the case, touching a finger against it, his eyes widening with wonder when it came back bloody. “Still sharp!”

 

“Dean.” Cas scolded.

 

Dean whirled. “Hey, Cas, you think they have a dungeon?” 

 

“In all likelihood, yes.”

 

“I told you this place was awesome! Come on, let’s go find it!”

 

“We should investigate the storerooms first...”

 

But Sam was too busy staring at the other end of the room to pay attention to their squabbling. He barely heard it as they left, Dean’s excited whoops fading as he disappeared down a side corridor.

 

Books. He could see books. 

He walked up to them like he was in a daze, letting his fingers trail along the bindings, leaving a shiny dust-free trail in his wake. So many books. More than all the reading material in Bobby’s entire house combined.  _ Variation Within Restless Spirit Behaviour _ he read. And then there was  _ Habits, Range and Diet of Griffons- Obligate Predator or Opportunistic Omnivore?  _ And  _ A Researcher’s Guide to Cursed Artefacts. _

 

Lore books. He looked around again, almost unable to believe his eyes. The amount of knowledge in just this room would be enough to keep him reading for the next twenty years. The things they were gonna learn! And if they could share all this, the lives they could save...

 

“Pretty awesome, isn’t it?” 

 

He turned. Gabriel was standing next to him, looking around with his hands on his hips as though he had been there the entire time. “Knew you had to have found the place when you vanished off my radar. Wards need a serious update, seeing as they let me fly right in here without even singeing my tail feathers, but apart from that, it’s solid as concrete. Mostly ‘cos that’s what the building’s made from. Oof-!”

 

Sam pounced, sweeping Gabriel almost off his feet and dragging him both over to the solid-looking table in the middle of the room in a burst of excitement. Ignoring Gabriel’s growing laughter, he gave the table an experimental shove; good, should be sturdy enough. Without further ado, he dumped Gabriel onto it, pressing kisses on his lips as he started pawing at his jacket

 

“Woah, Samsquatch! You gonna go all caveman on me?” He chuckled. He caught Sam’s eyes, and he must have seen the gleam in them, because he started to strip, even with his gaze still fixed on him with that infuriating, predatory smirk. “Really? You’re gonna ravish me right here on the library table? What is this I’ve found, a repressed research kink? Does it get you in the mood? I knew you liked books, Sam, but I didn’t know you  _ like _ liked them-!” 

 

Sam managed to roll his eyes as he cut off the stream of words with his mouth, drawing away from Gabriel’s lips to pant, “shut up and let me ravish you.”

  
  
“Yes, Sir. Now you’re talkin’!”

 

...

 

It had been almost an hour, and Dean could still barely contain his excitement. 

 

The first thing he’d had to do (after a brief search for the dungeon, of course,) was check out the facilities. The shower pressure in this place might just be the best he’d ever had. It certainly beat out the crappy motels. He’d picked out a room for himself (and maybe Cas as well if he wanted to stay the night), found the garage (all those cars!) and found the kitchen.

 

Oh boy, the kitchen! Privately, that was what got him really excited. He’d snuck in there earlier and salivated over the gleaming stainless steel surfaces. The industrial ovens! The goddamn walk-in freezer! Goodbye crusty kitchenettes and microwave meals, Dean was gonna cook some good shit in here. He was thinking burgers first.

 

But before any of that, he was going to find Cas. Where had he gone? He’d told Dean before he went for a shower that he could detect deeper levels, but that had been half an hour ago. Maybe he’d found the elusive dungeon? Dean cinched the grey robe tighter around his waist, wandering out towards the communal areas.

 

He rounded the corner into the library. He didn’t even think about the creaking or the muffled noises. Not until it was too late.

 

“ON THE LIBRARY TABLE, SAM! YOU ASSHOLES HAVE A ROOM NOW!! WHY!!”

 

...

 

That night, after Dean had finished chewing them out, made them scrub down the entire library (okay, that was fair) then fed them delicious burgers all while scowling thunderously, Gabriel and Sam returned to the room that they’d eventually decided on. 

 

It was as featureless and impersonal as every other bunk room in the place, and Gabriel made faces at the walls as they got undressed. The Men Of Letters had all been boring old gasbags no matter how exciting the rest of their secret base was, he decided. Who else would ever paint walls  _ grey? _

 

Sam swung himself into the bed that Gabriel had snapped free of dust, lifting the covers invitingly. 

 

Gabriel grinned at him, sliding under the sheets into that little pocket of body-heat with him. He might not need to sleep, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to. Sam’s soul was glowing next to him, flaring as Gabriel scooched closer, that soft radiance of  _ cherished _ and  _ loved _ and  _ together,  _ making the cold aura of the room a little warmer. Gabriel tucked his smile against Sam’s shoulder and tangled their legs together. He really would follow his human anywhere. He closed his eyes, listening to Sam’s breathing even out.

 

But just as he was on the verge of sleep, he felt it. Something was in the room with them.

 

It wasn’t a presence, exactly. It was much more insubstantial than that. It was just  _ there _ , pinging on the edge of his angelic awareness like a boat gently bumping against a pier. He squinted into the darkness, trying to make it out.

 

It was images. Glimpses. Paper-thin flashes, wisps of time and emotion. Not of the past, he realised, but of the future.

 

Should he peek? He shouldn’t. But he couldn’t resist. He had to know.

 

Gabriel reached out, touched them, and as soon as he did, he  _ knew. _

 

This unfamiliar room would be theirs one day. The walls would be repainted in brighter colours and pictures hung on them. The sheets would be warm from their bodies, worn and soft from use, smelling of them. He could feel the quiet contentment echoing back to him down the years. It made his breath catch in his chest. He opened his eyes and there was a mirage of another Sam lying next to him, smiling, his face a little older but no less handsome, the laughter lines around his eyes deeper. They would be  _ happy  _ here.

 

He was tempted to stay there in that warm bubble of things-to-be, but he sensed  _ more _ . Tentatively, he stretched his awareness out further, deeper into the bunker. He could see more people; a girl with long red hair, a boy stressing over a thick stone tablet, a lady speaking in sign language to a gangly-limbed werewolf, two young women hand-in-hand. The sound of ghostly chatter and Dean’s laughter echoed from the small bar that was not yet there, from the dusty storage room that would one day house comfy couches and a foosball table. There was Sam coordinating a hunt, in his element, manning the phones with a sea of books open in front of him and Fen laying heavy on his feet. There was Cas training a batch of new recruits in the gym downstairs, carefully correcting their positions and bossing them around. 

 

And there, at that great long table, he could see them all gathered for a meal. There was festivity in the air, laughter and chatter. Gaia had draped some tinsel over her horns, her deep laugh resonating through the room as she bent to let a young girl attach a bauble to one of them. A loud cheer erupted as Dean emerged from the kitchen with a huge roast turkey borne proudly aloft. 

 

And then Gabriel caught sight of himself, sitting at the table with them, passing around the roast potatoes, laughing at Cas’ dry sense of humour and Dean’s attempt to carve the bird. Sam’s arm was looped around his waist, their legs pressed up against one another under the table. His future self looked up at him, where he hovered over the scene in awe, and the tiniest smirk curled the corner of his vessel’s mouth. He gave Gabriel a barely perceptible wink.

 

The warmth in the core of Gabriel’s grace flared hot enough to bring a prickle to his eyes, made his breath catch in his chest at the realisation. It was overwhelming- the relief, the hope, the sudden release of pressure he hadn’t even know he was under. He could stop running, stop searching. These people were his family. 

 

His home. 

 

Gabriel let his eyes slip closed again, curling an arm around Sam’s waist, burying his face against his chest to hide his trembling smile. Yes, they were going to be just fine.

 

**The End**

 

 

 

(Almost)

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :D


End file.
